


His Everything

by marvelidiot



Series: Sexy Times with Steve and Sam [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 08:10:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7837039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelidiot/pseuds/marvelidiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Steve is very turned on that he and Sam belong to one another</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Everything

"Steve, I have to--"  

"Stay with me, stay with me," Steve begged, everything feeling so tight and hot, he didn't want it to end.  

Sam bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, raising his hips to meet Steve's. His fingers twisted so tight in the sheets that the corners were coming up from the mattress. Little noises escaped from between his lips – little whines, a whimper, a moan that seemed to come up from the soles of his feet.  

"Steve!" he cried. "I can't. I have to—I'm gonna--" 

"Hold on," Steve gritted out.   

But Sam's back arched and he got that faraway look in his eyes and he came all over his stomach and chest. He groaned and gasped and dug his nails into Steve's sides. "Fuhhhh---aaaaah ah ah, fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Each curse came out quieter than the last as he caught his breath. He shuddered and curled forward a little as the last tendrils of his orgasm unfurled. Finally, he fell back on the pillow and sighed, his lids heavy and his face gorgeously relaxed. "Sorry, babe." 

Steve leaned forward and kissed him -- soft, feathery kisses over his glistening cheekbones and his Adam's apple and the lovely hollow behind his ear. Sam shivered underneath him.  

"How are you going to make it up to me?" Steve asked. He rocked once into Sam and Sam groaned from the oversensitivity and brought his hand up as if to push Steve away, but he only managed to raise it an inch or two from the mattress before letting it fall.  

"I've been told," Sam said, letting his eyes drift closed, "that I give an excellent blow job." 

Steve smiled. Sam always fell asleep within minutes of coming. Even with an aching hard-on, Steve thought it was adorable.  

"You'll have to make it up to me tomorrow," he said, easing out of Sam. He pulled off the condom and took himself in hand. 

"I c-c-caaannn doooo it," Sam yawned. "See? Look at how big my mouth is." 

Steve rolled his eyes. "You are still terrible at dirty talk." 

Sam shrugged. "I could at least give you a hand," he offered, stroking Steve's knee. 

Steve lubed up his palms and stroked his dick, ignoring Sam's proposal. His eyes raked across Sam's beautiful, blissed out face, from his dark eyes, soft and unfocused, to his lips, parted and damp, down to the streaks of cum on his torso and chest like a piece of modern art, the defined lines of his abs, the breadth of his shoulders. He thought about Sam's blowjobs, the way Sam managed to build the anticipation like a conductor directing a crescendo, the way his tongue and fingers and lips seemed to be everywhere at once, the slick heat so insanely good Steve lost his purchase on actual thoughts. And, god, the way Sam looked right before he came, like he wasn't even in his body anymore, like he'd gone somewhere so blissfully pure and good that it could only be called heaven. Sam was gorgeous. He was so sexy and smart and perfect and he belonged to Steve, he belonged to him in every sense of the word. His partner, his love, his husband, his everything. Sam was his and he was Sam's. And Steve was starting to feel it, he was almost there, his balls tightening, his thighs trembling, his toes curling, and then Sam said, 

"Come for me, baby," and Steve lost it, came in great, big gushing spurts and he felt the explosion of pleasure in the pits of his knees and the nape of his neck and the hairs on his knuckles. It seemed to go on an indecently long time and the rough drag of his palm was everything. And then a great blissful exhaustion hit him square in the chest and if he hadn't thrown out his hand to catch himself, he would have fallen face down on to Sam.  

Sam smiled up at him. "Looks like you managed without me," he murmured. 

Steve shook his head, still catching his breath, still feeling the lovely aftershocks. "You were—you were very much a part of that." 

Sam turned his head and yawned. "If you go get a wash cloth, I'll love you forever." 

"You already promised to do that," Steve said, stealing a kiss before rolling on to his back. 

"Yeah, but I was just gonna half-ass it. Now I'll be properly motivated." 

Steve groaned and got up. "What does properly motivated look like?" he asked on the way to the bathroom. 

"It's a surprise," Sam said, ending on another yawn.  

Steve snorted. He returned to the bedroom with a warm, damp washcloth and wiped the cum from Sam's russet brown skin.

He pressed reverent kisses to his chest and neck. "I love you," he said. He tossed the cloth toward the laundry hamper. "You're my everything." 

Sam wound his arms around Steve's back and pulled him down so that Steve was pinning him to the mattress. Sam nuzzled against Steve's collar bone. "I'm yours," he sighed sleepily. "I'm yours." 

**Author's Note:**

> I was too lazy to give this any context beyond what my brain threw on the page at 12:30 AM on a Monday morning.


End file.
